


happy came to visit me

by swankyandmoomoo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, Inspired by a Mitski Song, Light Angst, M/M, Oikawa Tooru is Bad at Feelings, Post-Timeskip, Songfic, i swear this fic is soft, like barely any because i am incapable of writing it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29504016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swankyandmoomoo/pseuds/swankyandmoomoo
Summary: “Iwa-chan,” Oikawa breathed out, his eyes sweeping down the line of Iwaizumi’s nose and tracing the curve of his lips, before pulling Iwaizumi in for a tight hug. Oikawa squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face into Iwaizumi’s shoulder. He let out a shuddering breath, heat pricking the corners of his eyes. It was overwhelming to have his worlds collide. He wanted to do so many things at once—to show Iwaizumi the beautiful and vibrant streets of San Juan, to introduce his best friend to the neighborhood aunties he seemed to have charmed despite his stuttering Spanish, to visit his favorite bakery and watch Iwaizumi’s face wrinkle in faux annoyance at Oikawa’s sweet tooth. Yet at the same time, Oikawa wanted nothing more than to spend the entire weekend lounging on his couch with Iwaizumi, watching old anime reruns the way they used to in high school, two boys nestled on one cushion when three were available.Iwaizumi visits Oikawa in Argentina
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4
Collections: Haikyuu Writer Jukebox Round One - Mitski





	happy came to visit me

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is inspired by the fabulously talented Mitski's song Happy
> 
> i also drew heavy inspiration from all the songs on [this playlist!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/52Fcqw4wnYS4PXSNTtjeQH?si=2UlFDgddTcW2KmVSm2c-OA), so pls listen while you read!

Oikawa’s heart thudded in his chest, beating out an incessant rhythm. He drew an uneven breath, trying to still his nerves amidst the bustle of the San Juan airport. He combed his fingers through his wavy brown locks, hoping they still looked as effortless as he had styled them to be. The humidity of the city refused to cooperate. On any other day, he would be sneaking into a bathroom to pat his hair down. But not today. Today his eyes were roaming the crowds, glancing from face to face, hoping to land on a set of dark eyebrows, a strong jaw, unruly hair. His hands were otherwise occupied, fidgeting with the zipper on his jacket, sliding in time with his restless heartbeat.

The anticipation had been building in Oikawa’s chest for days. He had cleaned his apartment three times over, making sure the sheets smelled like detergent and stuffing all his hair products into the bathroom closet. He had even alphabetized his comics on the shelf, the way he used to in his childhood bedroom but hadn’t yet gotten around to doing in his new apartment. Beyond organizing his things, Oikawa had also already prepared his heart, awaiting that familiar flush of giddy and happy all mixed together.

Oikawa had been so caught up in his thoughts that he let out an embarrassing squawk when a heavy hand clapped his shoulder. He turned around, prepared to defend himself from a hostile traveler, but was met with kind eyes and an oh-so-familiar grin. Oikawa couldn’t help himself as his lips tugged up in a mirror of the man standing in front of him.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa breathed out, his eyes sweeping down the line of Iwaizumi’s nose and tracing the curve of his lips, before pulling Iwaizumi in for a tight hug. Oikawa squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face into Iwaizumi’s shoulder. He let out a shuddering breath, heat pricking the corners of his eyes. It was overwhelming to have his worlds collide. He wanted to do so many things at once—to show Iwaizumi the beautiful and vibrant streets of San Juan, to introduce his best friend to the neighborhood aunties he seemed to have charmed despite his stuttering Spanish, to visit his favorite bakery and watch Iwaizumi’s face wrinkle in faux annoyance at Oikawa’s sweet tooth. Yet at the same time, Oikawa wanted nothing more than to spend the entire weekend lounging on his couch with Iwaizumi, watching old anime reruns the way they used to in high school, two boys nestled on one cushion when three were available.

“Still as clingy as you were in high school, huh, Oikawa?” Oikawa felt Iwaizumi’s chest rumble with a laugh.

He drew back, suddenly feeling seen in a way that only Iwaizumi was able to make him feel. He had wanted Iwaizumi to see the new him. No longer a nervous and ambitious boy from Aoba Johsai but a confident and successful man who had found his place 17,000 kilometers away from home.

Despite the often-times crippling loneliness and anxiety he felt at living in a foreign country, learning a new language, and joining an unfamiliar team, Oikawa had more or less settled in. He went out for dinner with his teammates after practice. He knew when the grocery store restocked the good yogurt brands. The baristas in the coffee shop next to his apartment building all knew his regular order. He was proud of himself for being decently fluent in Spanish after only a year abroad and for adjusting to the rhythms of living in a city after a lifetime spent in the suburbs.

And if he stayed awake on certain nights listening to the rattle of passing trains to drown out his thoughts, he sure as hell didn’t want Iwaizumi to know.

The whole point of Iwaizumi’s visit, in Oikawa’s mind, was to confirm to his best friend that he was doing fine—great, in fact—and that he didn’t need to rely on Iwaizumi’s companionship and care to make it. He was his own person now. They didn’t have to be Oikawa and Iwaizumi anymore. They could be just Oikawa. And Iwaizumi. Two people with a shared past but now living independent of each other. These were lines Oikawa had repeated to himself, over and over, wishing that his heart would listen to his head.

He had wanted to share this new self he had grown into since leaving Japan a year ago. But the moment he laid eyes on Iwaizumi, he was pulled back into his old habits, back into the comfortable and predictable motions that had filled their middle and high school years.

Oikawa pouted. “I’m not clingy, I’m giving Iwa-chan the welcome he deserves after a weary journey,” Oikawa declared loftily. Ignoring the unimpressed arch of Iwaizumi’s eyebrow, Oikawa linked his arm with Iwaizumi’s, tugging him toward his car.

* * *

Oikawa unlocked the door to his apartment and stepped in, watching Iwaizumi’s reaction out of the corner of his eye. As Iwaizumi’s eyes drifted from the shoes in the doorway to the ratty old throw blanket that Oikawa’s mother had insisted on packing draped over the sofa, Oikawa began to feel self-conscious. All of a sudden, he wished that he hadn’t spent so much time making the apartment orderly. Looking around at the spotless kitchen counter and the lonely blanket draped over the sofa, the place seemed cold and barren, like whoever lived there hadn’t really bothered to make it home.

Especially with Iwaizumi standing right next to him, Oikawa took notice of all the ways in which his apartment looked nothing like his home back in Japan. He saw the coffee machine sitting next to the microwave, the bowl of fruit on the counter, the lack of Dana Scully paraphernalia. He used to drink milk tea with his breakfast. In middle school, his recurring dreams consisted of living in a house that only had milk bread in its cabinets and winning against a team of aliens at some strange intergalactic version of Nationals with Iwaizumi. His bedroom at home was plastered with X-Files posters and a Funko Pop Dana Scully stood guard on his nightstand, something about Scully’s simultaneous skepticism and unwavering support of Mulder reminding Oikawa about his own best friend.

Oikawa cleared his throat and opened the door to his bedroom. “You can put your stuff in here. I’m taking the couch this weekend.”

Iwaizumi frowned. “Are you sure? At university I pretty much live on my couch, so it’s not really a big deal. You can keep your bed.”

Firmly crossing his arms and adopting the stubborn yet polite glare that he had inherited from his mother, Oikawa shook his head. “Iwa-chan, just take the bed. I already changed the sheets and everything.”

Without waiting for a response, Oikawa deposited Iwaizumi’s bags in the other room and shut the door. “So, what do you want to eat for dinner? It’s getting late and I’m sure you’re hungry.” Oikawa recalled the way Iwaizumi’s eyes lit up at post-game dinners, inhaling bowls of rice and biting into meat like there was no tomorrow. “Since I’m such an amazing host, I already made a list of possible options to choose from,” he added generously.

Iwaizumi lifted an eyebrow in challenge. “Well, since you’re such a great host why don’t you surprise me?”

Oikawa rolled his eyes, lips pressed together to hide a grin. He was more than a little happy that Iwaizumi had left the decision up to him. He was eager to show Iwaizumi his favorite food stalls and just simply _be_ with his best friend.

* * *

There was something about the night air that filled Oikawa with earnest longing. It could have been the warm glow of the street food stalls, or the effervescent burble of the city, never silent even in the dead of night. Or it was almost definitely the way that Iwaizumi’s eyes shined with laughter and familiarity, the way that Oikawa could feel the flush in his cheeks from too many glasses of wine, the way that every time their hands brushed on the walk home from dinner, Oikawa wanted to spill all the words that had been collecting in his chest since high school.

As they climbed the stairs back to his apartment, Oikawa poked teasingly at Iwaizumi’s back, “So Iwa-chan, how was that for hosting? Seemed like you enjoyed those empanadas almost as much as agedashi tofu.”

“Okay, I’ll admit it, Shittykawa, dinner was pretty great,” Iwaizumi turned to smile back at Oikawa, sincerity lacing his words. “Thank you.”

Oikawa’s breath caught in his throat. The light from the stairwell cast Iwaizumi in dusky gold hues, reminding Oikawa of the summers they used to spend adventuring around the neighborhood and chasing fireflies until their parents called them inside. The easy smile that graced Iwaizumi’s lips and the tender gaze that returned Oikawa’s was unraveling something in him. A knot that once loosened would never be tied again. 

He gripped the banister tightly, grounding himself and blinking back the heat that prickled behind his eyes. Oikawa pressed his lips together in a smile and pushed Iwaizumi up the stairs. “Of course I’m gonna treat my friend when he comes to visit me,” he said, putting on an airy tone, grateful that Iwaizumi couldn’t feel the rapid beating of his heart.

Once they slouched onto the sofa, their limbs naturally overlapping and tangling with each other, Oikawa breathed a sigh of contentment. It felt good to have Iwaizumi’s presence in the apartment—the recognizable scent of Iwaizumi’s mint bodywash clinging to his skin, the feeling of Iwaizumi’s calloused hands slung around his shoulders. Oikawa had the overwhelming sense that he would do anything to have Iwaizumi stay with him if he could bask in this comfort forever.

Lost in thought, Oikawa didn’t realize Iwaizumi had said something until he was being nudged away and Iwaizumi was standing up.

“I almost forgot that I brought gifts for you. Hanamaki and Matsukawa filled half my suitcase with them and then demanded that I record your reaction,” Iwaizumi said with a laugh.

Oikawa blinked at the plastic bag that Iwaizumi returned with. He was curious and just a little touched that his best friends had thought to give him something.

Iwaizumi pulled out his phone to take a video as Oikawa reached for the bag. Slowly loosening the knot of the handles, Oikawa peered in, finding a small mountain of individually wrapped milk bread. Despite being sealed, the packages held the familiar sweet smell of butter, cream, and above all, happiness. As Oikawa breathed in, his chest tightened with yearning for the simplicity of walking down the street to buy milk bread from the local conbini.

The silence stretched long and taut between them. Iwaizumi was still filming Oikawa, probably waiting for a joyful screech and a dramatic reaction that would be Makki and Mattsun’s joke fodder for the next few months. But Oikawa couldn’t bring himself to breath out even one word. He couldn’t let himself give life to those words that had crept into his mind since he moved to Argentina. He would keep it in, tightly coiled in his chest, because he had chosen this path. He had made his choice and he wouldn’t regret choosing to pursue his dreams.

But his heart didn’t seem to be on the same page as his head. Oikawa’s chest felt like it would burst with the clamor of his heartbeat.

The dam of Oikawa’s sadness broke with a sob, unwillingly wrenched from his throat. And once it broke, the tears spilled out uncontrollably. Oikawa clutched the bag of milk bread to his chest and curled in on himself, shrinking into the inexplicable feeling of loss that permeated every fiber of his being.

“Oikawa…” Iwaizumi’s voice gently pushed its way through the roiling mess of emotions that clouded Oikawa’s mind. “What’s wrong?”

For a while, the only sounds in the room were Oikawa’s arrhythmic sobs, separated by small hiccups and gasps for air. At some point, Oikawa found himself nestled into the couch, pressed into the crook of Iwaizumi’s arm with Iwaizumi rubbing steady circles into his back.

As his breathing evened out, Oikawa felt raw and exposed, eyes burning with still more tears to be shed. He chanced a glance at Iwaizumi, finding that he was already focused on Oikawa, eyes filled with some mix of worry and pain and affection.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi said softly, “you wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know,” Oikawa mumbled, voice rough from crying. “I don’t know why…I’m like this. I wanted your visit to be perfect. I’m sorry.”

“Oi, don’t you dare apologize. I’m not that much of a jerk to ignore when my best friend is sad.”

“But it’s fine,” Oikawa felt a whine creep into his tone, “I’m fine. We don’t have to talk about it.”

“No, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi’s gaze was heavy with intent, and his voice bled into desperation, “it’s not fine. You scared me, and I’m worried about you. I’m afraid that what just happened…” he trailed off in thought before speaking in a voice too small for the usual bluster that he presented. “That wasn’t the worst of it, was it?”

Oikawa’s heart sped up. How did Iwaizumi have the ability to see right through him? Even when Oikawa was pulling away and putting distance between them, Iwaizumi found ways to bridge that distance. He made months spent apart feel like nothing at all.

Feeling like glass with the way Iwaizumi was seeing through him, Oikawa’s walls crumbled completely. “It hurts, Iwa-chan. It hurts so much.”

“What hurts?” Iwaizumi asked tenderly.

“I don’t know. Everything. Nothing,” he gave a half-hearted shrug. “Playing volleyball without you hurts. But not playing at all hurts even more. And being away from you is so hard, but now that you’re here, it’s almost worse because it’s temporary.” His words were a tumbling waterfall, spilling unbidden from his lips. “I never wanted you to see me like this, but I guess I just feel so alone sometimes. I just miss you and Japan and home and everything that I used to take for granted. And I know that I’m so lucky to even be here at all, but I just can’t help but miss it…all those things that I’ve lost. More than I should. And I can’t help but want to go back where everything…hurts less, where I feel more grounded.”

“But that’s the whole point,” Iwaizumi said gently, wiping away a tear that had rolled down Oikawa’s cheek. “You came here to be challenged, to become even stronger than you already are. I mean, _I_ already know that you’re the best setter out there, but you came here to prove it to yourself too. And that’s what makes you so great—you don’t stop until you’ve conquered the world stage.”

Iwaizumi shrugged his shoulders, “It’ll take time to feel comfortable in any new place, for sure, but I know you’ll make it. It’s hard now, of course it’s hard now. Hell, it hurts for me to be so far from you too, but it’s just because we’re not used to it. And it might not seem worth it right now, but you shouldn’t regret the decision you made. You haven’t lost everything from home. You haven’t lost _me_ ,” he adds quietly, almost like a confession. “I’m here, aren’t I? And Hanamaki and Matsukawa sent their love through the milk bread. We’re here for you. We’re here _with_ you.” Iwaizumi tapped Oikawa’s chest, right where his heart was slowly surrendering to the confidence with which Iwaizumi delivered his words.

All of a sudden, Oikawa became acutely aware of how close Iwaizumi was to him—impossibly, unbearably close.

Oikawa took deep shuddering breaths, not even caring that his snot was getting all over the sleeves of his favorite hoodie. Iwaizumi’s fingers trailed mindlessly over the embroidered spaceship over his heart. “Plus,” Iwaizumi said, voice rough with mild embarrassment. “I came to visit because _I_ missed _you_.”

Oikawa’s gaze lifted by a fraction, still not daring to look Iwaizumi fully in the eyes. His focus shifted to absentmindedly tracing the way Iwaizumi’s shirt clung loosely to his collarbones instead of counting the callouses on his fingers. “You missed me?”

Iwaizumi breathed out a laugh, something like tenderness leaking into his words, “Yeah, dumbass, of course I missed you. I missed you every time I met up with Makki and Mattsun for drinks, every time I passed by your house, every time I stepped on the volleyball court.” Iwaizumi paused, seeming to catch himself from the rapid spill of words from his lips. “I missed you so much and I was so afraid that being apart would change everything. But being here with you now, it doesn’t feel any different. It’s the same, _we’re_ the same. It doesn’t make any sense because we _are_ different. Hell, I never thought I’d see the day where you let me film you crying.” Oikawa let out a shaky laugh, still wet with tears and spent emotion. “But we, us?” Iwaizumi gestured between them, “the two of us together haven’t changed at all.”

At that, Oikawa looked up, finding certainty and conviction only Iwaizumi Hajime was capable of expressing through his deep brown eyes. “So I know it’ll all be okay. We’ll be okay.”

“But what if I want it to change?” Oikawa all but whispered the words, barely breathing each syllable out before he realized he’d spoken out loud. Those words that had been buried behind his rib cage for years, suddenly given life in the rawest of moments, floating in the air of their shared breath.

Iwaizumi stilled, his finger no longer skidding over the edges of Oikawa’s sweatshirt, the hand holding Oikawa’s shoulders slowly loosening. Oikawa thought he saw disbelief, confusion, worry, sadness flit across Iwaizumi’s features, but he couldn’t be sure. And with the way Iwaizumi was blinking at him, still seeming to digest the weight of Oikawa’s words, Oikawa was convinced that he had just made the second biggest mistake of his life. The first being him breaking down in the first place.

Iwaizumi had never been unreadable to Oikawa. Until now.

But then Iwaizumi broke the silence. “What do you mean?” he asked carefully, as if his question held the weight of worlds in its balance.

Oikawa squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Iwaizumi now. Too afraid to see his eyes dim with hurt and betrayal. Even more afraid to see those soft brown eyes narrow in disgust and anger.

“I mean,” Oikawa steeled himself with a deep breath, “sometimes I wish I had never left your side.”

“Oikawa, you were always gonna leave me. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Really. You’re meant for greatness.”

He hoped his voice didn’t come out as shaky as he felt. “No, Hajime, I’m meant for you. I love you,” he said earnestly. “I love you and when I’m alone I can’t stop thinking about how much I miss you. And when I say I miss home, I really mean I miss you.” He coated his words with conviction; there was no going back now. The knot in his chest had loosened for good.

Oikawa pressed a calloused palm against his chest, right where Iwaizumi’s hand had been moments ago. He could feel the thunderous roar of his heartbeat through the fabric of his hoodie. He bit his lip, fighting the tears that were threatening to spill out again with the sudden outflow of emotion. “I can’t bear to be away from you, because I want so much more. I want the lazy mornings and stupid fights that end up being fun stories in ten years. I want to fall asleep tangled up together, and I want to kiss you.” Oikawa’s voice dipped back into a whisper. “But I can’t. And I hate that I can’t change it. I know that I can’t convince you to love me back, but god,” his voice cracked with the rawness of his emotions, “I wish I could.”

Feeling exhausted, Oikawa finally dared to look up at Iwaizumi, tentatively gauging his reaction to the emotional vomit Oikawa had just spewed at him. What he didn’t expect to find was Iwaizumi’s wobbly grin and big, fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

Iwaizumi broke out into a watery laugh, his hand finding its way back onto Oikawa’s shoulder. His palm slid over to cradle Oikawa’s cheek, feather light and reverent. Oikawa wasn’t sure of when he had ever seen Iwaizumi look as happy as he did in that moment, eyes aglow and cheeks flush.

“Oikawa, I…” Iwaizumi stuttered over his words. “How long have you felt this way?”

Oikawa suddenly felt shy with Iwaizumi’s undivided attention focusing on him like a spotlight. “So long,” he said, entirely too truthfully. “Since I can remember, being next to you has felt like home.”

As his thumb drew circles on Oikawa’s cheekbones, Iwaizumi’s lips drew into a sweet, faintly sad smile. “Me too,” his voice dropped to a whisper, “god, me too. I can’t believe this is happening.”

Oikawa’s heartbeat had long since drowned out any thoughts in his head. _Was this actually happening?_ He _was the one who couldn’t believe this was happening._ The rapid flush of emotions and his spontaneous confession had left him without words. The only thing he could do was to simply lean into Iwaizumi’s touch, pressing their foreheads together. They were both misty-eyed but smiling like they had found buried treasure after years of searching—triumphant and exhilarated.

Oikawa reached out to trace the curve of Iwaizumi’s jaw, eyes inexplicably drawn to the lips that haunted his dream. Oikawa’s eyes narrowed in smugness, “So, does this mean Iwa-chan has dreamed about kissing me?”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes but answered with an equally shit-eating grin, “I’ve dreamed about more than kissing.”

Feeling his face burn at Iwaizumi’s bravado, Oikawa could do nothing but shove his face into Iwaizumi’s shoulder, hiding the embarrassed smile that threatened to grow even wider. “Me too,” he mumbled into the fabric of Iwaizumi’s shirt.

“You’re not gonna make me wait any longer, are you?” Iwaizumi drew Oikawa back up.

Time stilled.

Iwaizumi’s gaze was filled with some unnamable emotion that was undoubtedly matched in Oikawa’s eyes—the all-consuming love and support of best friends who had grown up together, the faint twinge of guilt from causing so much pain for the other, the blinding happiness of finally finding what they had been looking for all along.

And with the moonlight filtering in through the window, glassy light illuminating Iwaizumi’s skin with silver, Oikawa swore he had never seen anything more beautiful.

He leaned toward Iwaizumi, instinctively looping his arms around the other’s neck. They drew together, like magnets bound by the laws of nature. Iwaizumi tasted like everything Oikawa had imagined—hope, happiness, home.

The soft press of their lips was sweet and smoky, new beginnings mixed with the nostalgia of returning home. His jaw moved instinctively, opening up to allow Iwaizumi closer, drowning in the heat of his mouth. Oikawa felt desperation leak into his gasps, elicited by the slow movement of Iwaizumi’s lips against his and the lazy way he twirled the short hairs at the nape of Oikawa’s neck around his finger. He pressed even closer to Iwaizumi, chasing that intoxicating warmth. Iwaizumi’s hands circled Oikawa’s waist, holding him close.

Oikawa was dizzy with the contact of their bodies, his blood singing with satisfaction. His heart was pounding harder than if he had just played five straight sets and his breathing was uneven. Barely hanging on, Oikawa drew back to catch his breath, cheeks undoubtedly flushed beyond imagination.

As they broke apart, Oikawa gingerly pressed his fingers to his lips, briefly wondering if they looked just as red and thoroughly kissed as Iwaizumi’s did.

Craving closeness, he pulled Iwaizumi back in and wrapped his arms around those broad shoulders. Iwaizumi reciprocated by burying his face into Oikawa’s loose hair. They inhaled the feeling of being close to each other, clutching on to the familiar press of chest to chest, palms to back. Wrapped up in their mingled scents of mint and aloe and with limbs tangled together comfortably, they drifted off to sleep, arguments over who would sleep in the bed long forgotten.

* * *

Oikawa blearily opened his eyes to the sunlight filtering in through the window. The apartment was awash with golden beams of light. Oikawa sat up slowly, scrubbing the imprints of couch cushion wrinkles from his cheek. His mind still felt fuzzy at the edges as he took in the bag of crumpled milk bread sitting on the coffee table.

As he became more aware of his surroundings, Oikawa noticed that the apartment was still and silent, not unusual for a morning when he didn’t have practice. It’s true, he didn’t have practice today but…his heart stuttered, blood running cold.

Bleak realization settled into his thoughts. Last night had been a mistake, a misunderstanding that Iwaizumi wanted to erase from memory. He had left before Oikawa had even woken, clearly embarrassed by his messy breakdown yesterday and trying to avoid an awkward confrontation.

“No no no no no,” he muttered, breath coming in short, rapid bursts. He should have never said those words. He should have never revealed those feelings he had so expertly buried. He should have never tipped the scales that held their friendship in perfect balance. Now everything had changed. Permanently and for the worse.

But it would be fine, probably, because Iwaizumi was such a kind person and he wouldn’t just abandon his best friend, _would he?_ Oikawa bargained with no one. He would happily cherish Iwaizumi’s friendship and bask in the comforting warmth of his presence. And, like always, Iwaizumi would stay by Oikawa’s side, albeit not in the way that Oikawa had always hoped for. But that was okay. Because at least he still had Iwaizumi by his side.

But no, he didn’t have Iwaizumi. Not anymore. Not now. Now everything was wrong. There was no Iwaizumi and the couch felt cold and the milk bread was just rubbing it all in his face.

Oikawa’s eyes shuttered closed. He pressed his fingers to his temples, forcing himself to calm down. The sigh he let out felt impossibly heavy, but it did nothing to release the weight in his chest. There was little to do about the steep spiral of his thoughts except to push them away for the time being.

“Well,” Oikawa mumbled in resignation, “I still have to clean this up.”

He folded the throw blanket that had somehow ended up on the floor over the course of the night and laid it gently over the couch. As he scooped up the offending milk bread, he had a sudden urge to just throw them all away, if only to erase a piece of the heartbreak he was suffering. But he couldn’t bear to let go of them for how much they eased the ache of homesickness.

Oikawa shuffled over to the kitchen. As he reached up to store the bread in his pantry, the door of his apartment rattled open.

Oikawa’s heart almost jumped out of his chest, suddenly pumping like his life depended on it, which he supposed it really did. Prepared for an intruder, potentially armed and with nefarious intent, Oikawa crouched down, desperately trying to smooth down a particularly stubborn lock of sleep-mussed hair that peeked above the counter.

When he rose up to get a glimpse of the face of his potential killer, Oikawa instead found Iwaizumi standing in the doorway, brow furrowed in confusion and nose scrunched up with barely concealed laughter.

Iwaizumi was practically vibrating with energy and amusement. And as Oikawa took in the last person he was expecting to barge through his door, he noticed that Iwaizumi was holding a bag with the logo of his favorite bakery from down the street.

Without thinking, Oikawa leapt out from behind the counter. He wrapped his arms tightly around Iwaizumi, practically toppling them both over with the relief he felt at seeing the other man again. His fingers dug into the fabric of Iwaizumi’s jacket, clutching onto the nearness and here-ness of him, memorizing the feel of their bodies pressed together. Breathing in the oh-so-familiar scent of Iwaizumi’s skin triggered something in Oikawa.

Tears spilled over his cheeks, staining Iwaizumi’s shoulders with the dampness of Oikawa’s panic that slowly bled into relief. He couldn’t even be bothered to care about appearances anymore. He was desperate to hear the steady pulse of Iwaizumi’s familiar heartbeat against his ear. He needed to feel Iwaizumi’s palm pressed against his back, soothing the double-time of Oikawa’s pounding heart.

“Geez, Oikawa. What is it with you and pastries?” Iwaizumi let out a chuckle. His hands reached up to hold Oikawa, smoothing out the tuft of hair that had sprung back up.

Wiping away his tears and sniffling loudly, Oikawa had never felt so small. “I thought you were gone,” he said, voice tremulous with emotion.

Perhaps fully realizing just how distraught Oikawa really was, Iwaizumi drew him close and spoke lowly, “I’m right here. I would never leave without saying goodbye.” His hands drew large circles on Oikawa’s back. “I’m here,” he repeated in a murmur.

“I was so scared…so afraid that I had lost you. Just…” he looked at Iwaizumi earnestly with something close to desperation in his eyes, “please don’t ever leave me. I know it’s selfish to say, but my heart is useless without you. I can’t lose you because I don’t what I would do with myself.”

“Tooru, I promise I’ll always be by your side. You’re _my_ home too, you know?”

“Really?”

“ _Really_ ,” Iwaizumi reiterated, a blush turning his ears pink, “I love you and I wouldn’t trade this for anything.” He cleared his throat, “Now do you want these pastries or not? I asked the lady which one was your favorite but she just pointed at everything in the display so I bought one of everything.”

“God, what did I do to deserve you, Iwa-chan? You’re way too good to me,” Oikawa was awestruck.

“I mean, we’re boyfriends now, right? Isn’t this what boyfriends do?” The blush had crawled to Iwaizumi’s throat now. He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure. “Plus you had kind of a rough night so I wanted to make you smile when you woke up.”

Oikawa’s lips lifted into a lopsided grin, “Why Hajime, you sure know the way to my heart, don’t you?” The flush of Iwaizumi’s cheeks was worth breaking his diet a thousand times over.

* * *

As Oikawa listened to the rumble of the train carrying Iwaizumi toward the airport, his heart thrummed with the disappointment of being separated from Iwaizumi so soon. The rhythmic pulse of the wheels blended with the beating of his heart, relentless and sonorous.

Over the course of Iwaizumi’s visit, Oikawa had realized this: he was inexplicably and entirely linked to Iwaizumi, in more ways than he could have ever imagined. And despite the distance separating them, they were connected by their shared past, linked by their ever-present love for each other, and bound by their promised future together. The truths that Iwaizumi had whispered in his ear would remain tucked under his ribcage, nourishing his half-moon heart. Nothing could force his feelings to fade.

Once Iwaizumi arrived back in Japan, Oikawa’s heart would float across the ocean to meet him. Because what use would he have for his heart when the man it belonged to was thousands of kilometers away?

And once Iwaizumi settled back into the usual rhythms of college life and Oikawa returned to the thrilling grind of practices and matches, Oikawa would look up at the night sky with Iwaizumi’s voice pressed against his ear, finding the twinkle of Iwaizumi’s eyes in the stars and the gleam of his smile in the incandescent moon.

Oikawa would know happiness in the way his heart beat in harmony with Iwaizumi’s.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks reader, i appreciate you! i'd also love to hear your thoughts about this fic!! i thrive on feedback, comments, and kudos :D


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